We drive home, Tolyan smelling like a Mexican festival in the close confines of the car. The second we walk into the penthouse, he dumps his dress jacket over the back of a dining chair and heads straight for the shower. Just changing into a new outfit wouldn’t erase the lingering scent.
I want to join him in the shower, but the Dobermans come over and whine for attention. I pat them all, still kind of embarrassed that they saw what Tolyan and I did last night. I didn’t notice in the throes of sexual haze, but Tolyan apparently told them to stay back.
It’s a little awkward, but I should think of it like watching a documentary. People watch documentary programs on wildlife mating and don’t consider it pornography. It’s probably the same thing for dogs.
“Isn’t that so?” I whisper to Stravinsky.
He looks at me without a response. I’m certain he’s trying to communicate, “If you give me a treat, I’ll give the answer you want.”
“I don’t think so.” I straighten up, grab a glass of water and pull out my phone. An alert pops up that Lyosha is following me back. Cool.
Seeing the alert makes me realize I haven’t heard from Courtney in a while. She didn’t text me on my birthday, which I presumed was because she got busy and forgot or something. She does have a life in Philadelphia. But she’s never gone this long without at least a quick hello.
Although I rarely reach out first, this seems like the perfect time to check up on her, like she’s done countless times for me.
Tapping a message out on the phone, I move around the dining table with the water in my hand. Something hot and questing pokes me right between my ass cheeks.
“Ack!” I jump and spin at the same time. Water sloshes over the rim and splashes all over Tolyan’s jacket. “Shit!”
Stravinsky moves back with a whine. Tchaikovsky and Mussorgsky give him a pointed look. If they could, they would be waving fingers at him.
Tolyan keeps his phones in his jacket pockets. I take the drenched jacket and pull out both. Thankfully, they aren’t too wet. Things should be okay.
“Stravinsky, don’t you ever stick your nose there like that again.” I wag my finger at him. “Bad dog!”
He hangs his head. I get some paper towels and wipe up the water as best I can, then sit down to finish my text.
–Me: Hey, girlfriend. You doing okay?
–Courtney: Fine, but why are you texting from this number?
–Me: Why wouldn’t I be?
–Courtney: Thought you got hacked and had to get a new number.
–Me: What are you talking about?
Three dots show, then vanish, then show again. Finally she responds.
–Courtney: How do I know you’re who you say you are?
Is she serious? But wait—maybe Roy contacted her, pretending to be me to lure her into something. It’s possible he’s figured out that she and I still talk.
I take a quick selfie and send it to her.
–Me: There. Trust me now?
–Courtney: OMG! Then who was that other person? She sounded just like you! Lemme check right now. This is so weird!
Is she going to confront the pretender?
Holy shit. No, no, no! If it’s Roy, there’s no telling what he might do to her.
–Me: No, don’t!
Just as I send the text, Tolyan’s phone buzzes once. Twice. Three times.
It sounds urgent, as more texts pop up. I glance at the screen in case it’s from Lyosha or Elizabeth with some important business or something. Sometimes she contacts him after hours.
But no… The texts filling his screen have nothing to do with Lyosha or Elizabeth.
I blink, certain I’m seeing things. I have to be. But the blood in my veins is running cold. My fingertips are icy and clumsy as I pick up his phone.
–Courtney: Hey, who the fuck are you?
–Courtney: Are you really Angelika?
–Courtney: If you are, prove it! Send me a selfie!
–Courtney: Are you fucking with me? You think you can get away, bitch?
–Courtney: Angelika contacted me, you shithead!
The level of aggression from Courtney is shocking. I vaguely make note of that, while I also note all her texts to the fake Angelika are hitting Tolyan’s phone.
If he’s been contacting her, why didn’t he say something? And why did he feel the need to contact her anyway?
Courtney warned me to figure out why Tolyan is helping me without demanding anything in return. I didn’t worry about it much because it seemed like an ungrateful thing to do when my life was finally looking up, when the universe finally handed me a lemon I could turn into delicious lemonade!
“What are you doing?”
I jerk my head up, losing my grip on the phone. It clatters on the table.
“Tolyan.”
He’s in a fresh set of clothes, a loose T-shirt and comfortable pants. His feet are bare, but that doesn’t lessen the dangerous edge to him. His hair’s damp from the shower, and he smells of body gel and freshly washed male.
But nothing lessens the betrayal ravaging my heart.
“I didn’t know you were in the habit of going through my phone.” His eyes are unreadable.
“I didn’t know you were in the habit of pretending to be me and texting my friend,” I manage through thick confusion. It pools around me like an impenetrable fog. Still, I try to keep calm. He has to have a good reason for doing this and not telling me. I’m going to listen first, then tell him I want to be looped into things that concern me. Just in case the possibility hasn’t occurred to him.
“I have my reasons.” He’s calm. He doesn’t seem to care he got caught. And his nonchalance stokes my fury.
“Such as?”
“Like thinking of ways to use her to destroy Roy.”
“What?”
“She’s been reporting to him about you.”
It’s like a spear into my heart. Courtney has been my friend all this time. Or so I thought. I trusted her. Told her things I couldn’t tell anybody. But she was spying on me for Roy? “No way,” I rasp.
“It’s true. I already checked everything. She’s a petty criminal who likes to spend more money than she can make. And she doesn’t enjoy honest work. Didn’t you think it odd that every time you give her a clue as to where you were, Roy would strike soon after?”
“Coincidences…” Courtney wasn’t even that close to my stepbrother when we were growing up. She was my friend back then, and she’s my friend still. Besides, it isn’t like I’m in witness protection, and Roy is extremely persistent. He would’ve been looking for me and could have found me about the time Courtney and I texted.
“Little fawn, Roy Wilks seems like an insurmountable monster to you, but he truly isn’t that good. The only reason he’s been able to survive so long is he lives too far away.”
Something about this statement feels off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Not when my head is spinning with shock, pain and rage.
Tolyan says, “That’s where Courtney comes in. I need somebody to force him to come to L.A., not get some punk to do another pointless hit-and-run. You want him caught and taken care of, don’t you?”
I do, otherwise I’m never going to be free of him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this, then? Why didn’t you warn me about Courtney?”